


Stay With Me

by EmmaArthur



Series: Whumptober 2019 [17]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alex Whump, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Michael, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2021-01-13 14:23:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21098195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaArthur/pseuds/EmmaArthur
Summary: Michael puts his foot in his mouth, Alex decides to leave Roswell, and all plans are seriously derailed by a man with a gun.





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober day 17: **"Stay with me"**.
> 
> I wrote this in maybe two hours and it's kinda chaotic and quick and hey, just self-indulgent Alex whump for the sake of it, basically. As you see, I was also uninspired for the title.
> 
> [gunshots, blood, death/killing]

“Loving you is the worst thing that ever happened to me, Alex.”

Alex feels the words hit him like a punch in the gut. Michael is drunk, not drunk enough to forget this in the morning but enough to say things that he would normally keep to himself, so Alex knows he probably didn't mean to say it out loud.

He also know that Michael truly means it.

And, Alex knows, it's nothing but the objective truth. Michael's love for him ruined his hand, and traumatized him for life. Michael's love for him brought him and his siblings closer to Alex's father, whose only goal is to exterminate them. Michael's too intense, too focused love means that his heart broke, every time Alex was forced to leave, or chickened out, or hesitated. Loving Alex _is_ the worst thing that happened to him.

Alex just wishes he hadn't been put in front of that truth like that, in the middle of the Wild Pony on a Saturday night, just after he found Michael making out with his best friend.

Maria looks at him with a sorry expression on her face, and Alex resents that. She knows. She doesn't know everything−for a start, she doesn't know that Michael is an alien, or that she's making out with him two days after both his mother and his brother died−but she knows Alex love Michael and has loved him for ten years. And she promised him she wouldn't sleep with him again. Sorry doesn't even begin to cover it. He wants to hurl things at her, at both of them, to scream and rant and tell them he hates them.

But Alex knows he's too hurt right now to think straight, so he swallows hard and tries to go with the option his brain tells him is the reasonable one.

“I see,” he says through gritted teeth.

Michael looks like he regrets that the words ever came out of his mouth, but even in a drunken state, he knows there's no taking them back.

“I'm tired of waiting for you,” he says instead. “I can't do it anymore, Alex.”

Alex nods over the nausea engulfing him, and stand up even straighter. “I understand,” he says. He can treat this like every dangerous mission he's even been in, every time he's had to do things he didn't want to do, right? Push away the emotions until the situation is handled. Show nothing. He can collapse when he's alone.

“Just tell me what you want from me, Guerin,” he says slowly. “If you want me to get out of your life, I will. You'll never see me again.”

Michael closes his eyes, and nods. “Maybe that would be best.”

Alex swallows again, almost ready to throw up right here and there. “Very well,” he articulates. He nearly salutes, his body gone in full military mode, but he catches himself at the last moment. “Goodbye, Michael_._”

He turns on his heels and almost runs out. Tears are falling from his eyes before he can even make it to his car, and he fumbles to find his keys. He doesn't let a single sound escape him until he's safe inside the car.

It's only almost an hour, two painkillers and five drops of anti-anxiety meds later that he can see enough to drive home.

Michael doesn't realize it until a couple of hours after he wakes in the morning with a huge hangover. He's been thinking about last night, a lot, about what Alex said but mostly about the deep _hurt_ on his face.

Maria broke up with him immediately after Alex left, realizing that she's just lost her best friend to a fling that didn't really mean anything. At least, that's what she told Michael, screaming at him that he'd lied to her about him and Alex being over (“But it _is_ over!” “Well it certainly looks like it wasn't until just now!”), but Michael isn't all that sure it meant nothing. It meant less than her friendship with Alex, though.

He's thought about it over and over, every word Maria said, every word Alex said, every time Michael put his foot in his mouth deeper. This is a mess he doesn't know how to get out of. Yes, everything he said was, in a way, the truth. A painful, brutal truth. He _is_ tired of waiting for Alex, and he's pretty sure he can't do it anymore, not after Caulfield, not after Max.

It _would_ probably be best for his mental health if Alex was not in Roswell. After all, he was doing fine, before Alex showed up again. Pining and drinking more than he should, sure, but fine.

But what he didn't register until right now, is the finality of Alex's words. _You'll never see me again. _Alex never says things lightly. He might have been angry, and hurt, but he wouldn't have said this just to show up at Michael's trailer again in the morning.

_Goodbye, Michael._

And Alex hasn't called him Michael since high school.

Fuck.

Michael brutally stands up from his unmade bed, almost falling down again when the world briefly flips upside down.

How long does he have? He knows Alex originally came to the Wild Pony last night expecting to celebrate his official discharge from the Air Force with Maria,  so work isn't going to hold him back. His father…is in the hospital for some reason, Michael remembers dimly. So not a threat for now, and Alex could probably pull strings to have him transferred elsewhere or something. Does he have anything else in Roswell? 

Fuck, where does Alex even live? Michael hadn't even noticed until now, but he doesn't know. Alex never told him. He can't ask Maria, and Liz is holed up in her lab trying to save Max, where Michael should be right now instead of still in bed. Isobel barely knows Alex at all. 

Michael pulls out his phone and calls Alex's number. He does have that, at least. It goes straight to voicemail, as he expected. He doesn't leave a message Alex isn't going to listen to, and instead scrolls through his contacts.

After going down the list twice, he curses. There's only one person there who might know, and it's the last person Michael wants to depend on−or explain the situation to. He punches the call button anyway.

“Guerin? What the hell?” Valenti answers.

“Where does Alex live?” Michael asks, without introduction.

“What? Why?”

“Because I need to talk to him right now.”

Valenti sighs. “Guerin, what is this about?”

“Look, I−it doesn't matter. But I think he's going to leave town,” Michael says, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he pulls on his pants.

“Leave? What did you do?”

Michael rolls his eyes, but he can't deny it's his fault.

“Wait, gimme a minute,” Valenti says. Michael starts to protest, but he's stopped by a string of curses. “Fuck, okay, he's just texted me. He says he's leaving and not coming back, that he'll sort things out later.”

Michael wants to hit his head. Alex can be fucking dramatic when he wants to.

“Where does he live?” he repeats.

“Cabin outside of town,” Valenti says. “Do you think you can make him change his mind?”

“I can try,” Michael says.

Valenti sighs. “When he sets out to do something−”

“I know.”

“I'll pick you up in ten.”

Michael drops his phone on the bed, and sits down, trying to breathe. He can't let Alex go. Not now, not after having him again after ten fucking years.

He needs to stop messing things up. He needs to make this one thing right.

They arrive right at the crucial moment. Or,  depending on how you see it , just a second too late.

The gunshot that rings out as Valenti drives the car up the dirt path to the cabin makes them both jump. Michael is out of the car before it's stopped, and appraises the situation in a fraction of a second. There's Alex's car, its trunk open and filled to the brink with boxes. There's another car, an SUV with tainted windows. There's the shooter, just outside his car, wearing fatigues and pointing a handgun.

And then there's Alex, on the floor in front of the cabin's front door.

Michael stops breathing and raises his arms. The shooter is easily dealt with, since Michael has no intention of letting him get out alive. He doesn't have to hide his powers, so he doesn't. The gun flies out of his hands, and the man flies into Michael's hands.

He doesn't know where it comes from, but he knows exactly what to do when his skin touches the man's. The transfer of energy is immediate, painful and exhilarating. It's like nothing Michael has ever felt. His hands light up, like he's seen Max's do dozens of times, and the man grows weak, malleable. In under a second, he's on his knees, and just moments after, he falls away from Michael, his body meeting the floor without resistance.

Michael doesn't let himself register what he's done.  He checks the car first, through its still open door, to make sure the man was alone, and then he run.

“Alex!”

Valenti hasn't even had time to get out of his car, and he makes it to Alex just a step behind Michael. Alex is still prone on the floor, not moving. Michael drops to his knees in front of him, checking him over for blood.

His shirt is full of it. It seems to originate somewhere in his right side, but Michael can only tell that because Alex is weakly trying to put pressure on it. The blood is already everywhere. Far too much of it.

Letting out a string of curses, Valenti immediately removes his jacket and starts pressing on the wound.

“Alex! Can you hear me?”

Alex nods weakly, as Michael pulls his head into his lap. “Why...here?” he asks, coughing.

“You texted me,” Valenti says.

“...chael?”

“I don't want you to leave, Alex,” Michael says. 

He expects a rebuke of some kind, even in Alex's current state, but Alex just nods sluggishly and closes his eyes.

“No, no!” Michael shakes his shoulder. “Stay with me, Alex!”

“Fuck!” Valenti mutters. “He's losing too much blood. He's not gonna hold on for much longer.”

“What do we do?”

Valenti shakes his head, meeting Michael's eyes. The desperation in his look strikes Michael. If even Valenti doesn't know what to do−

“You're a fucking doctor!” he shouts. “Alex!”

Alex's hand goes limb in his. “Alex! Stay with me! We need to call 911.”

“They're not going to get there in time,” Valenti says.

“Then what?”

Valenti closes his eyes,  and a tear runs down his cheek . Michael sobs, murmuring “no, no no,” over and over again. It's not possible. Alex can't die, not like this, not now. Not ever.

He searches Alex's pulse at his neck, finding it weak and erratic, and something pulls at his mind.  _New powers_ , Max said.  _Stronger powers. Killing makes us stronger._

He's just killed a man. Max did that, and then went and resurrected Rosa, ten years dead. Michael doesn't have the same powers, but maybe he can−

His hand on Alex's neck lights up slowly. It's not strong, but it's there, so Michael pushes. He pushes Valenti's hands away from Alex's wound, and places his own instead, letting the power course through him.

“Guerin, what are you doing?” Valenti shouts, but Michael is too focused to answer. He knows the surge of power in him could make a building explode if he used it telekinetically, but like this, it's weak, barely enough to have any effect. Max is the one who can heal, not Michael.

But it works. It works enough, anyway. Under his hands, the blood flow slows until it's just a trickle, and Alex's pulse gets stronger.

Michael lets go and drops to the floor, suddenly void of energy. He can only turn his head away from Alex before he throws up−on Valenti's shoes, he notices dimly. He can barely move. “Guerin!” Valenti exclaims.

“Acetone,” Michael murmurs. “After.”

Valenti nods at the edge of his blurry vision, and checks on Alex. “The bleeding's almost stopped,” he says. “I don't know how you did it, but you just saved his life. He still needs a hospital, probably a blood transfusion and stitches, but he should live.”

Michael breathes a sigh of relief. Valenti takes care of Alex for a minute longer, then he goes back to his car, while pulling out his phone to call 911. He comes back with a first aid kit and a bottle of acetone.

“The other guy's dead,” he says, helping Michael sit up and drink. The acetone immediately eases his nausea and most of the pain, though it does little for the fatigue. “I think he's one of Alex's father's men.”

Michael nods. “I killed him,” he murmurs. “That's why I could do that.”

The horror rushes over him then, overpowering the relief. “I killed him.”

“He tried to kill Alex. Almost succeeded,” Valenti says. “You did what you had to do.”

How have they ended up in a world where Valenti is comforting him? Michael pulls himself closer to Alex, whose eyes flutter open.

“Hey,” he says.

Alex blinks a few times, and his grip is weak when Michael finds his hand.

“Mmmh,” Alex groans.

“You're gonna be okay,” Michael says.

He remembers, then, why they came here in the first place. The boxes in Alex's trunk, the one toppled over beside them. Alex was leaving.

“I don't want you to go,” he murmurs.

“I'm not going...anywhere,” Alex frowns, confused.

“You were leaving,” Michael reminds him.

Alex closes his eyes. “You don't want me,” he sighs.

“Of course I do,” Michael says. “I was wrong. I don't want you to go anywhere. Please, Alex, stay with me.”

Alex opens his eyes again and meets his gaze, raising his head weakly.

“Okay,” he murmurs, just before they hear the siren of the ambulance. “I'll stay right here.”

Michael feels his grip going lax as he passes out, exhausted by the blood loss.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I've said a few times that I don't like magical healing powers. I don't, unless they're an opportunity for good whump. I don't like Max's powers because they're too strong, and because healing Michael's hand was wrong, and because resurrecting someone means there's basically no limits to his power. But Michael having just enough healing power to save Alex but not enough to heal him fully, now...
> 
> Well, what did you think?


End file.
